


Beckham Hands

by Turtles



Category: One Direction
Genre: 69, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-18
Updated: 2013-09-18
Packaged: 2017-12-26 22:45:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/971181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turtles/pseuds/Turtles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis stays up waiting for Harry after LFW, he has a David Beckham shaped bone to pick with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beckham Hands

**Author's Note:**

> definitely influenced by this [post/tags](http://wearecities.tumblr.com/post/61544176754/checkthemargins-harry-is-literally-partying)

Harry gets home that night late, he shrugs his coat off at the door and tosses it over the nearest seat he finds. Kicking off the boots and yawning into the back of his hand he pads through the kitchen in the dark, and is about to take the stairs when the light abruptly turns on with a click. 

Louis is sitting at the head of the kitchen table, sleeping shirt and pants already on. Like he was in bed and decided to come downstairs for some reason. "Lou?" Harry lets out, squinting at the brightness of the overhead lights.

"Coming home late aren't we?" Louis says from the kitchen, head down and fringe covering his eyes.

Harry shuffles over closer to him, "Yeah, you know I told you we had the afterparty."

"I saw. Oh, I definitely saw," with that Louis takes out his phone and clatters it to the table, "Who. the fuck is that?"

"That? I don't know, picture's blurry, some bloke, babe do you want to go to bed? Blowjob?"

"That is David. Fucking Beckham."

"Is it? I didn't see him at all, he must've left before I was there," Harry pulls up behind Louis, pressing his hands into his shoulders, "Sure you don't want to go to bed? I'm sure this doesn't matter -”

“Doesn’t matter?!” Louis shoves out the chair forcing Harry to back up.

“Doesn’t. Matter.” And now that Louis is standing up Harry can see, his dick is tenting his sweatpants, and Louis says, “Did you shake his hand?”

“Um. Kinda? We were all around, it was just polite.”

And Louis jumps on him, mouth first and Harry is forced to catch him by the swell of his bum, so his hands reflexively squeeze, and Louis pulls back with a moan, says, “Your hands.”

His head is thrown back and he has a small smile on his face, and he is /bloody picturing David Beckham/, Harry makes a high pitched indignant whining sound, “Are you picturing him?”

Louis pops back up as if Harry’s voice has broken a spell, “Uh, yes?”

Louis nearly falls as Harry’s arms open up to let him go, and he has that furious small animal look in his eyes, and all of a sudden Louis can see his evening of being groped by hands that have touched David Beckham leaving him.

And then Harry is physically leaving and heading up the stairs in a strop, “Beckham hands - I mean Harry wait!”

Louis follows and Harry’s huffing out, “Cannot believe you have such a massive boner for Becks that you jumped me because I touched him, he’s not even that attractive in person.”

Louis gasps, “You take that back! And as if I’d get to know, you wankers didn’t call me from the bus! I am sure if David and I had been in the same room I could’ve seen for myself, yeah?”

Harry takes off his clothes, flopping to bed in a naked sulk, “Doesn’t mean he’s better than me.”

At that Louis sighs and relents, pulling up the corner of the sheet before snuggling up behind Harry in bed. “No. It doesn’t, just means I’d like to have met him.”

Harry loosens up a bit, so of course Louis has to yank at him, “And maybe gotten off in the loo with him.”

Harry tenses up again and moves to curl away, but Louis laughs and is already pulling him back around to face him. Harry’s scowl is even less fierce with his hair flopping forward into his face and Louis presses a kiss into his cheek. “I’m kidding, love.”

Harry lets out a wry smile, “Sure.”

“You’re right I’m not kidding. But because I’d have it off with David Beckham doesn’t mean I love you any less. Otherwise every husband in Britain is out of luck.”

Harry starts beaming, “Did you just call yourself my husband?”

Louis rolls his eyes with a groan and rolls over, “Oh my god, you would focus on that.”

“Hubby, it’s okay we all know you want to marry me,” Harry is pressing his nose into Louis’ neck, curling a hand into his hip now.

“Who would ever want to marry you, you’re clearly insufferable, and won’t even let me picture Beckham while we have it off.”

“You wanna be my husband. You wanna complain about this for the rest of your life.”

Harry is smirking and Louis can feel it even if he can’t see it, so he yanks at Harry’s hair a bit which has the unintended consequence of making Harry’s breath hitch. 

“Maybe a little. You know we could still,” and Louis shifts his hips so his cock is pressed against Harry’s bare hip, hand still tangled in his hair.  
“Yeah?” Harry says, “Do you want me to do you?”

Louis shakes his head, “Nah, just relax and open your mouth.”

With that Louis is chucking his joggers off and swinging his body over Harry to face his feet, making sure his dick dragging across Harry’s mouth before leaning over to take the head of Harry’s cock into his mouth.

There’s something almost peaceful about cocksucking. When the spit drops down and makes the slide smooth, and the skin drags against his tongue he feels almost zen. Which is almost the exact opposite of how he feels when Harry has his mouth on him, like every lap of Harry’s tongue is tearing at his seams.

Louis is supporting himself on Harry’s thighs, feeling the smooth fine hairs there and he digs in a little, forcing himself to go further down on Harry’s cock. Hearing that little gargle as his throat works to accommodate Harry inside him.

He feels Harry’s hips twitch like he wants to bury himself in Louis, and Louis can feel his cock twitch inside Harry’s mouth at the thought. Harry is running his hands all over Louis’ ass bringing him down with every slurp of his mouth, pressing in with his thumbs so Louis can feel the hint of pressure, like Harry wants in in more than one way.

Louis goes to readjust and accidentally grips Harry’s thigh much tighter than he meant, and Harry’s hips buck up into Louis’ mouth. Louis just opens and presses down until he’s nosing at his balls, trying to breathe in deep as Harry loses it. Splatters of come hitting Louis’ throat.

Louis pulls up and turns around straddling Harry’s chest and bringing his cock close enough so that if Harry strains for it he can lick the head.

Pulling at himself fast, and rubbing his too sensitive nipples he comes over Harry’s face who makes this soundless noise of surprise, before Louis’ is feeding him his dick for a final moment.

Louis rolls over with a sigh while Harry rummages in the bedside drawer for a wetwipe, “Next time a little warning before spunking on my face, yeah?”

“Next time give Beckham my number, yeah?”


End file.
